


So Here I Go

by ladylapislazuli



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/F, First Kiss, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:40:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29523084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladylapislazuli/pseuds/ladylapislazuli
Summary: Edelgard and Bernadetta’s first kiss is many things.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/Bernadetta von Varley
Comments: 5
Kudos: 49





	So Here I Go

Their first kiss is not perfect.

Edelgard is not tall enough. That is what she reflects on later as she paces her chambers, mind whirling a mile a minute, heart still pounding with a sickening combination of excitement and mortification even as she wrestles to control herself. A miscalculation, an error in her judgment, a strategic misstep on the metaphorical battlefield. Retrospectively predictable, given her inexperience, but a simple mathematical mistake.

Edelgard is small in stature. Bernadetta, while not exactly tall herself, is still tall _er_ , and the height of her heels compounded the issue. Five inches of difference in total, and the speed of Edelgard’s approach made judging the distance a challenging task for anyone, let alone a novice.

She miscalculated. That is all. 

She exhales, stilling her feet. Calm. Collected. That is who Edelgard is. She is the emperor of Fódlan, logical and rational in this and all things, dissecting it as she would dissect any other matter. She closes her eyes, taking in another slow breath.

She is calm. She is perfectly calm.

… Then she remembers the fumbling, fleeting kiss she pressed mostly to Bernadetta's chin rather than her lips, and horror sweeps over her all over again.

A noise escapes her, entirely unbidden. It’s _too much_. And in the privacy of her chambers, where no one else can see or hear, Edelgard throws herself face down on her bed, buries her face in her pillows, and shrieks.

Their first kiss is a fumbling, awkward thing, the furthest thing from perfect. Still not a kiss Edelgard is likely to forget in a hurry.

\- - -

Their first kiss is impulsive.

Edelgard is not by nature an impulsive woman, but she is fallible, and she does not always know herself as well as she would like.

She misjudges her height, as previously established. But more importantly, she misjudges her strength of feeling, and so misjudges the distance, and so misjudges her height. A circle of failure, centralised around the simple fact she did not know how she would act until the moment came. Did not know what she felt, or what it meant, until understanding washed over her with a sudden and purposeful decisiveness.

Understanding is one thing. But kissing Bernadetta right there and then, the very moment clarity came? Impulse. Pure impulse.

Their first kiss goes like this: they are walking in the gardens together, as they have taken to doing since Bernadetta’s return from her tour of the continent. Bernadetta is chattering about plants, pointing them out and listing names and facts with only a few apologies and stammers in between, and Edelgard is… distracted.

She often feels this way around Bernadetta these days. This strange, swooping feeling in her chest.

Bernadetta leans down to inspect a rose bush, her lips curving into a smile, voice quieting in favour of the gentle happiness lighting her face. She admires the rose in all its bloom, but Edelgard is stunned by the revelation that hypnotises lovers everywhere, that poets and playwrights alike have written odes to, that she now feels with a sudden, desperate pang: the rose is a beautiful thing, but it pales in comparison to Bernadetta’s beauty.

And Edelgard is overcome, overwhelmed. Something inside her shifts that very moment, never to be the same again. She moves forward like a mannequin on a string, helpless, hypnotised.

Not a thought in her mind. Not a single thought.

She reaches out, taking Bernadetta by the arm. Bernadetta startles at the touch, straightening up, blinking at her with those extraordinary eyes – somewhere between violet and grey, as subtle and otherworldly in their beauty as Bernadetta herself. She startles, but does not run. Flinches, but does not scream. Her lips are parted in her surprise, but she does not pull away. She is not afraid of Edelgard anymore.

And in that moment, the impossible feeling that has been swirling around in Edelgard’s chest all these months crystallises into a moment of perfect clarity. Into understanding. Into _intention_.

Edelgard would marry this woman. She would marry her.

She knows it. Then and there, she knows. But rather than plan, rather than think, rather than consider how to go about this the proper way, impulse takes over. Without a single thought in her royal, analytical, usually clear-minded head, Edelgard kisses Bernadetta.

Edelgard is not usually an impulsive woman. Because following impulses inevitably leads to mistakes.

\- - -

Their first kiss is a long time coming.

Bernadetta’s return to Enbarr is a recent thing. Their history is far longer.

After the war, Bernadetta left. She wrote regularly, though rarely to Edelgard directly, for their relationship had never been a close one. Bernadetta was so volatile, so delicate, so strange, and Edelgard hardly knew what to do with her. Tried to be kind, in as much as she was capable of it, but no more than that.

Their farewell was a cool thing, polite on both sides, both women looking to their futures in opposite directions. Edelgard wished her well, placing a hand upon her shoulder, just as easily letting it go.

The passage of time is a funny thing.

The war was won, but the fight was not over. Bernadetta left, and Edelgard felt nothing. Head full of numbers and strategies and the bloody underground battle that still lay ahead. She fought long and hard. Fought until every inch of her was covered in scars, and every one of her enemies was crumbled to dust. Fought until she was Edelgard, the true emperor of all of Fódlan, strong and proud and utterly indomitable. Fought until the cowering, weeping little girl she’d once been was long, long dead.

Edelgard finished her quest. And it became a story, a legend, passed all around her empire and striking fear into the hearts of those who would oppose her. But the story did not end there.

For so many years, Edelgard was a hard woman. She had purpose, she had vision, she knew what had to be done. Knew, too, that she would do it, no matter the cost. She was a woman forged of the strongest steel.

But even metal may change, given enough time.

Peace came, and Edelgard's scars healed. Peace came, and Edelgard began to soften, little by little, piece by piece. Peace came, and like the turning of the seasons, Edelgard changed with it.

Many months later, Bernadetta came back to Enbarr, and she was different. More sure of herself. Full of knowledge and enthusiasm and a confidence Edelgard had never seen in her, not in all the years they’d known each other. 

Still Bernadetta. Still strange, still flighty, still singular in both her talents and interests. Still nervous, especially of Edelgard. Still contradictory, a quiet and delicate person exploding in sudden flurries of force and noise and deadly accuracy. Unique, captivatingly so.

Beautiful. And once Edelgard noticed, she could not stop noticing.

It takes a long time. Edelgard’s heart, long guarded, is not a thing easily moved. But little by little, she changes. 

It takes a long time. But when it comes, it feels inevitable.

\- - -

Their first kiss is, perhaps, their last.

Edelgard is not sure who flees first, her or Bernadetta. She is haunted by Bernadetta’s frozen face, her choked breath, the _look_ in her eyes. Trapped, caged. Caught.

Edelgard is a strong woman. Powerful, both in station and in sheer brute strength. Not tall, but she has been told more than once that she is an imposing woman, intimidating despite her lack of height. She moves through the world with single-minded force, shaping it to her will, and very few would dare refuse her anything.

There lies the problem. Edelgard forgot herself, forgot her reputation and her responsibilities and her respectability as a ruler dealing with someone who is, technically speaking, a subordinate. That said, Edelgard is not the type to wallow in self-recrimination or pity – it was just a kiss, thoughtless and fumbling as it might have been. Just a kiss, no more and no less. Just a kiss, and if she had tried it on anyone else in the world, something simple as a kiss would have little consequence.

But she kissed Bernadetta. And Bernadetta is delicate, in more ways than one. An unmatchable archer, but in all other aspects… delicate.

Edelgard misstepped. She misstepped. 

Bernadetta looked frightened.

It takes her some time to pull herself from her rooms. First, there is Hubert, knocking at her door and asking if Her Majesty intends to attend the meeting, or if he should make her excuses for her. Then, there is Ferdinand, who knocks far too loudly and asks at high volume if she is well, all-together too enthusiastic for an afternoon such as this one. Then comes Dorothea, with a quieter knock and the wheedling promise of a cup of tea, and it is she alone who persuades Edelgard to open the door. Dorothea takes one look at her face and just seems to _know_ , in that uncanny way Dorothea seems to know everything.

“Oh, Edie,” she says, sweeping into Edelgard’s bedroom. She sits down on Edelgard’s bed, kicking her shoes off and making herself at home, throwing an expectant look back at Edelgard.

Edelgard is not accustomed to this. It is not the first time Dorothea has thrown Edelgard with casual intimacy shocking to someone who grew up in the courts of Enbarr. Not even Edelgard’s siblings would have sat upon her bed so casually, and certainly not without invitation.

But Edelgard does not want the life she had, even before there was so much death and darkness. She does not want cold, empty rooms and silent hallways. So Edelgard sinks onto the mattress beside Dorothea, back ramrod straight.

It is an inane thing to focus on, but Edelgard hopes Dorothea does not touch her pillows. Then she might notice the damp spot, right where Edelgard’s head has been.

“Having a hard day, huh?” Dorothea says, and their friendship is such that Edelgard knows Dorothea will pry the truth from her no matter how Edelgard tries to evade. So Edelgard takes a breath, raises her chin, and tells her the facts.

“I misstepped,” she says in summary. “I will have to… apologise to her. Probably not publicly, you know how she is. But I…”

Edelgard swallows. There is an uncomfortable lump in her throat. Her heart is pounding, a constant, painful thudding in her chest. Shame, embarrassment, not feelings common to her for they are useless emotions that turn all-too-easily into self-pity. But there is something else too. Something that feels more like… loss.

Dorothea studies her. “You’re really serious about her, aren’t you?”

Edelgard looks down. Nods, just once. “I doubt she’d have me, now.”

One kiss. Impulsive, ill-timed, unwelcome. One faltering, fumbling kiss, and it is the last Edelgard is likely to have.

\- - -

Their first kiss is entirely one-sided.

“I just – I wasn’t expecting it!” Bernadetta says, her face buried so deeply in her hands it looks as though she might like to crawl into them. “I never thought you…”

Edelgard nods, even though Bernadetta cannot see it. Swallows down the swell of – whatever that feeling is. Something clawing, something she has no intention of examining. Not now. Perhaps not ever.

Dorothea urged her to do this. _It won’t be as bad as you think, Edie._ So Edelgard sought Bernadetta out. Bowed to her, keeping a careful distance, all too aware of Bernadetta’s wide eyes and blanched cheeks, the way she looked on the verge of bolting even as she agreed to talk.

Edelgard is a decisive woman. Strong, forceful. She knows this about herself. Knows, too, that she has not always thought well of Bernadetta, found her cringing incomprehensible, her terror of everything and everyone shameful, much as Edelgard might chide her younger self for that lack of empathy now. 

Bernadetta is a woman of a different kind to Edelgard. She is a flighty creature, not easily caught. Not tame, as wild in her own way as a bird in the sky, as singular in her habits as Edelgard is restrained in her own. Bernadetta is not a woman to take kindly to advances made upon her unexpectedly. Not a woman who ought to be treated as such, and Edelgard _knows_ that. 

Bernadetta is delicate. Or perhaps, more accurately, _courting_ Bernadetta is delicate. And Edelgard misstepped.

“I wasn’t expecting – I mean – you? Me? I don’t…” Bernadetta devolves into incoherence, as she has not since they were schoolgirls.

Something sinks like lead in Edelgard’s stomach. But she will live. This blow, like all the ones before it, will not be fatal.

Edelgard has her answer. Clean and simple. She has her answer.

“I understand,” she says stiffly, though to her mortification her voice sounds rough. She clears her throat. Takes another respectful step back, bowing her head. “I apologise again for my conduct. I hope you will continue to think of me as a friend, though I will respect your wishes.”

Edelgard’s voice wobbles. She falls silent. Composing herself, forcing her thud-thud-thudding heart as deep as she can bury it, caging it once more in layers of steel.

Bernadetta peeks at her from between her fingers. She takes several rapid breaths – almost hyperventilating, and Edelgard moves forward in concern before she abruptly remembers herself and jerks backwards again.

Foolish. Off-kilter. As foolish as Bernadetta has ever had cause to see her, and Edelgard dearly wishes it were not so.

But Bernadetta blinks at her. Her eyes trace the lines of Edelgard’s face. And slowly, Bernadetta lowers her hands. She keeps them clasped to her chest, twisting them nervously, but no longer hiding behind them.

“You’re the emperor,” she says.

“Yes.”

“You’re Edelgard.”

Edelgard raises one cool eyebrow. Realises, too late, it is the same judgmental look she would give to a dissenting courtier, as cold and unyielding as Edelgard knows how to be. She does not want that with Bernadetta. Does not want to be that way with Bernadetta, even if…

She clears her throat again. Folds her hands behind her back. “I am.”

“You want to – me?” Bernadetta says in barely more than a whisper.

The lump in Edelgard’s throat is almost unbearable. Her voice is pitched too low, too quiet, as she forces the words out around it. “I should have courted you properly. I was… overwhelmed, and I lost my reason momentarily. I’m sorry.”

“No, I was just surprised, I…” Bernadetta makes a noise. Hides her face in her hands again. But this time, it is to cover her pinking cheeks.

It is such a little thing. But hope blossoms in Edelgard’s chest all the same.

Nothing in life comes without risk, Edelgard knows. Win or lose, rise or fall. Every choice, every action, every decision she has ever made has had a consequence.

It is such a little thing. But Edelgard has always been the kind of person who takes the leap.

“If you are not opposed…” she says slowly, as cautious as she should have been that first time. Watching Bernadetta carefully, ready to withdraw in a moment, ready to change her strategy in the space of a breath. 

Bernadetta looks nervous, but not _frightened_. There is a difference. A critical difference.

“If you are not opposed,” Edelgard repeats, “I would like to… court you properly.”

It is a step off the edge of a precipice, and the chasm below her is terrifying. But Edelgard keeps her course, stands straight and strong, chin held high.

Bernadetta peeks at her between her fingers, her cheeks strikingly red. Squeaks out, her voice very small, “I… okay.”

Their first kiss is one-sided. But if Edelgard has learned anything, it is that all things change.

\- - -

Their first kiss is not Edelgard’s finest moment. But it is not the end of things, either. It is a beginning.

She and Bernadetta walk the gardens often. At first, they walk side by side, as companions. Then they walk arm in arm, coming closer together. Then they walk hand in hand, closer still.

It takes time. Edelgard courts her properly, courts her as an emperor should, then quickly changes strategy when Bernadetta – sweet, strange, lovely Bernadetta – runs shrieking from the flock of doves released in her honour.

It is not perfect. Edelgard is new to this. They both are.

But one day, on one of their walks, Bernadetta turns to her. She takes Edelgard's face in her long, thin fingers. Trembling ever so slightly, but drawing impossibly, inexorably closer. Edelgard’s heart is in her throat, and she reaches for Bernadetta cautiously, carefully. Takes her by the waist, holding her as warm and gentle as she knows how. Waiting, breath bated, as Bernadetta leans in.

Their first kiss is not Edelgard’s finest moment.

But their second kiss… that is something else entirely.


End file.
